The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde

Books at bedtime by calming anxiety, the happy prince, by Oscar Wilde.

High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the happy prince. He was gilded all over, with thin leaves of fine gold. For eyes he had two bright sapphires and a large red ruby glowed over his sword-hilt.

He was very much admired indeed. He is as beautiful as a weathercock remarked one of the town-counselors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes. Only not quite so useful, he added, fearing less people should think him unpractical, which he really was not. Why can't you be like the happy prince, asked a sensible mother of a little boy who was crying for the moon?

The happy prince never dreams of crying for anything. I am glad there is someone in the world who is quite happy, but a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue. He looks like an angel, said the charity children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinnifles. "How do you know?" said the mathematical master.

You have never seen one, but we have in our dreams answered the children and the mathematical master frowned and looked very severe for he did not approve of children dreaming. One night, they flew over the city a little swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, but he was in love with the most beautiful read. He had met her early in the spring and he was flying down the river after a big yellow mouth, and he had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.

"Shall I love you," said the swallow, "who liked to come to the point at once?" and the read made him a low bow. So he flew round and around her, touching the water with his wings and making silver ripples. This was his courtship and it lasted all through the summer.

It was a ridiculous attachment, tweeted the other swallows. She has no money and far too many relations, and indeed the river was quite full of reeds.

Then when the autumn came, they all flew away. After they had gone, he felt quite lonely and began to tire of his lady love. She has no conversation, he said, and I am afraid that she is a cucket, but she is always flirting with the wind. And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the read made the most graceful curtsy.

I admit that she is a domestic, he continued, "but I love travelling and my wife can sequently should love travelling also. Will you come with me?" he said finely to her. "But the read shook her head. She was so attached to her home.

You have been trifling with me," he cried. "I am off to the pyramids. Goodbye." And he flew away.

All day long he flew, and at night time he arrived at the city. "Where shall I put up?" he said. "I hope the town has made preparations." Then he saw the statue on the tall column.

"I will put up there," he cried. "It is a fine position with plenty of fresh air, so he elated just between the feet of the happy prince." "I have a golden bedroom," he said softly to himself as he looked around, and he prepared to go to sleep. But just as he was putting his head under his wing, a large drop of water fell on him.

Not a curious thing he cried. There is not a single cloud in the sky. The stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful.

The reed used to light the rain, but that was merely her selfishness. Then another drop fell. What is the use of a statue? "If it cannot keep the rain off," he said.

"I must look for a good chimney pot, and he determined to fly away." But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up and saw, "Ah, what did he see?" The eyes of the happy prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little swallow was filled with pity.

"Who are you?" he said. "I am the happy prince." Why are you weeping then? Ask the swallow. You have quite drenched me. Where I was alive and had a human heart, answered the statue.

I did not know what tears were. Fry lived in the palace of Sans Sochi, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden. And in the evening I let the dance in the great hall.

Round the garden, round a very lofty wall. But I never cared to ask what laid beyond it. Everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the happy prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness.

So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead, they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city. And though my heart was made of lead, yet I cannot choose but weep. What?

Is he not solid gold, said the swallow to himself? He was too polite to make any purse remarks out loud. Far away continued the statue in a low musical voice. Far away in a little street.

There is a person of where the window is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. The face is warm and she has a coarse red hands all tricked by the needle. For she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of queens.

In a bed in the corner of the room, a child is lying ill. He has a fever and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him, so he is crying. Swallow, swallow, little swallow.

Will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move. I am waited for an Egypt, said the swallow. My friends are flying up and down the Nile and talking to the large lotus flowers.

Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great king. The king is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen and embalmed with spices. Browned his neck is a chain of pale green jade and his hands are like withered leaves.

Swallow, little swallow, said the prince. Will you not stay with me for one night and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty and the mother so sad. I don't think I like boys, answer the swallow.

Last summer when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller sons, who were always throwing stones at me. He never hit me, of course. We swallows vived far too well for that and besides, I come of a familiar famous for its adiality, but still it was a mark of disrespect. But the happy prince looked so sad that the little swallow was sorry. It is very cold here, he said, but I will stay with you for one night and be your messenger.

Thank you, little swallow, said the prince. So the swallow picked out the great red ruby from the prince's sword and flew away with it in his bee over the roofs of the town. He passed by the cathedral tower where the white marble angels were sculpted. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing.

A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. How wonderful this star's are, he said to her. And how wonderful is the power of love. I hope my dress will be ready in time for the state ball, she answered.

I have ordered passion flowers to be embroidered on it, but the seamstresses are so lazy. He passed over the river and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the ghetto and saw the old Jews bargaining with each other and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in.

The boy was crossing feverishly in his bed and the mother, she had fallen asleep. He was so tired, in he hopped and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman's thimble. Then he flew gently around the bed, fanning the boy's forehead with his wings. How cool life feels said the boy, I must be getting better and he sank into a delicious slumber.

Then the swallow flew back to the happy prince and told him what he had done. It is curious he remarked, "But I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold." "That is because you have done a good action," said the prince, and the little swallow began to think and then he fell asleep. He had always made him sleepy.

When the day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. What remarkable phenomenon said the professor of ornithology as he was passing over the bridge, a swallow in winter, and he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Everyone quoted it. It was full of so many words that they could not understand.

"Tonight I go to Egypt," said the swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments and sat a long time on top of the church's deep hall. Wherever he went, the sparrows chirrapped and said to each other, "What a distinguished stranger." So he enjoyed himself very much.

When the moon rose, he flew back to the happy prince. "Happy you any commissions for Egypt," he cried. "I am just starting." "Swallow, swallow, little swallow," said the prince.

"Will you not stay with me one night longer?"